


No making mistakes tonight

by Jaskiers_BrokenLute



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Almost smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Fade to Black, Fights, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Relationship, Soft Valdo Marx, but not any real porn, protective valdo marx, snarky bards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute
Summary: "The first bardic festival after the mountain incident, without Geralt, shouldn't have been a big deal. These sorts of competitions didn't require a body-guard or whatever Geralt would proclaim he was that day, the only difference would be Jaskier's table holding only one seat."ORJaskier is ridiculed by a fellow bard and old frenemy Valdo Marx steps in.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Valdo Marx, Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	No making mistakes tonight

The first bardic festival after the mountain incident, without Geralt, shouldn't have been a big deal. These sorts of competitions didn't require a body-guard or whatever Geralt would proclaim he was that day, the only difference would be Jaskier's table holding only one seat.

That, and he wouldn't have someone to look to when the rows among rows of unfamiliar faces stared him down and he felt the overwhelming need to be exactly what they all expected, an impossible feat which he knew would never be met.  
When Geralt was there he could simply look to him and play to his witcher, he didn't have to try to impress Geralt because nothing could, Geralt had no expectations of him when it came to his performances, and while usually, his indifference felt rather insulting, when he needed something else to focus on when the expectations felt too high, he could always count on Geralt's indifference.  
He'd never admit to Geralt that the witcher had gotten him through countless performances. He seemed to forget that Jaskier had only just started as a bard when the two met in Posada, he made his name because of that fateful day, so performances in front of important people, crowds, expectations, all of that came with Geralt.

It gets easier as time goes on and the pre-show nerves wear off, but it's nerve-wracking having no one to look to when he feels like all the stares have turned to judgement.

But it turns out that Geralt is useful in more ways than keeping him steady on stage, in fact, he is useful before he even gets up there.

How could Jaskier have known?

"I present, Master Jaskier of Lettenhove,"

A series of applause rang out in the hall as Jaskier made his entrance, clapping to himself as another name was called and another well-known bard appeared.

Competitions like this had grown far more fanciful over the years, as the demand for bards grew higher and their fame spread throughout the continent.  
It was still a little strange to be among such people.

"Haven't brought your master with you this time?"

Jaskier spun around as the voice invaded his line of thought, he was met with an unfamiliar face of a clearly wealthy bard, probably a court bard by the looks of it, specifically the incredibly out of fashion pompous outfit he wore as if it were the finest outfit the continent had ever seen.

"I'm sorry?" He tried to make sense of the words, of course, the hatred for Witcher's still existed and in that, the hatred for those who didn't hate witchers, Jaskier especially for the songs he wrote, but he figured a fellow bard would appreciate the art and at least keep his prejudice to himself.

"It's just odd to see the witcher's whore without the witcher. Did he wear you out too much, get bored? Unable to handle that godforsaken screeching you pass for song? Or did one of those monsters finally rid the world of him?"

The bard crossed his arms cockily shifting his weight so his hip jutted out.  
Jaskier's mind stuttered for a moment, focusing in on the slander towards Geralt. Even if he'd heard far worse things about his, ex-friend, he still had to put a lid on the anger that boiled up inside of him at the words.  
If it were any other environment he'd have no problem showing this insufferable, brainless, dickless, man exactly how he felt, but in a place where image mattered, he had to be the bigger man. Not that he had to try very hard in this case.

"Oh, you mean Geralt!" He acted oblivious to the scorn, pissing the man off further if his tightened jaw were anything to go by, it pleased Jaskier to put the man off, even if it didn't help the situation.

"We parted ways a little while back, he's a busy man, as am I. I appreciate the concern though sir,"

"The only concern here should be yours, see a few of us have spoken of you in these past years about your, interesting taste in company. Your songs about the witcher have made you famous, they're played across the land, spreading tales of that mutant beast as if he were a hero.' He sneered, making it out to look as if the words were sour on his tongue.  
"Now, I can get behind a bit of embellishment, a few lies to build up my name, I couldn't point out one bard who doesn't, but the difference here is you mean it.  
Plenty of people would agree when I say I don't like it, it doesn't sit right with most of the people that hear it but you blind them with catchy tunes, and you win them over, time and time again, taking away rightful praise from artists who actually worked for their place in the world, and yet you suck one monsters cock and you're set for life."

The words were like blow after blow to Jaskier.  
Is this how the world sees him? Sees his music? He works harder than any spoiled, pompous arse here. Watch any of them treck into swamps, forests, and hellfire, putting your life on the line for the sake of truthful stories, accurate tales, and turning lies into (slightly embezzled) truths.

It stung, he'd thought about it before, how Geralt had (not purposefully) kickstarted his career.  
But, every bard gets their start somehow, he's more than his songs about Geralt. It hurt to think that he could be the only one who thinks that.

"I'm sorry to say that I don't know what you're talking about. I earned my name through work and devotion to the art, and although I have no doubt it would be a plenty pleasurable experience, Geralt and I were friends, no more."

"I'm afraid that's not the point." He growled, frustration growing as he Jaskier continued to feign indifference.

"Pray tell then, good sir."

"Leave, you have no right to be here among actual artists and poets. Your brainwashing would take away from the people who worked to be here. Leave by your own will, now, or you'll see how many of us truthfully share this opinion."

Jaskier gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say. The man's pleased grin twisting his stomach into knots.  
It would probably be best if he did leave, avoided a confrontation and kept some of his dignity. But he deserved to be here just as much, if not more than everyone else,

"It sounds to me like you're intimidated."

Before Jaskier could answer a familiar voice cut through the silence, both of the men turned to see a new party stood with crossed arms just a few feet away from them, an air of confidence in his stance.

"Valdo?" Gods Jaskier hasn't seen him in years. Their petty squabbles in Oxenfurt were decades ago and they rarely ever crossed paths. He'd only seen him once since his djinn wish, where he nearly fainted in relief that the bard hadn't actually died of apoplexy. The wish had been a heat of the moment, drunken mistake after he'd heard that Marx was telling people he was a talentless wastrel, but he didn't want him dead.

"The one and only," He smirked, arms splayed out as if presenting himself.  
"As I was saying, you, sound as if you're scared of my good friend here. You see the words are big, bold even, but you're nothing less than a small unknown wanna-be, intimidated by real talent. You know you stand no chance in this competition with Jaskier here, and frankly, you wouldn't if he left, which he won't of course. How about you spend your time on some much-needed practice instead of pitifully trying to up your chances, or, as you put it, you'll find out just how many people share, my, opinion."

"Got yourself a new master then, whoremonger." He spat at Jaskier's feet before beginning to step away, taking Valdo's word.

"On second thought-" The troubadour stepped forward, using the momentum of the step to carry his closed fist directly into the man's nose, a sickening crunch filling the air and the man toppled to the floor with an undignified shout, hands clutching his bleeding face.

"Valdo! You'll be disqualified!" He spoke shakily, fighting off laughter as he grabbed Valdo's arm and began to run before a crowd could form around them.

"I wasn't going to win anyway," He answered with a matching laugh, running after Jaskier towards the latter's room.

They shut themselves into Jaskier's room, catching their breathe as Jaskier giggled, high on the adrenaline rush the confrontation had caused.

"Thank you for that." He smiled up at his former rival, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"My pleasure, I can't stand people like him. Such low talent that they need to knock away the competition to even stand a chance, it's pitiful."

Jaskier nodded in agreement, but couldn't help but think it was true, he did have an unfair advantage above most bards, he had an endless supply of stories, famous from his travels with the witcher more than he was for his actual talents. The people here built their careers from the ground up, Jaskier hardly had to lift a finger.

"I can practically hear you thinking, you'll pass out if you over-exert your feeble brain," Valdo commented, no heat behind the insult, trying to keep Jaskier out of his head.

"You can't deny he had a point,"

"No such thing as can't darling, I most certainly can. It's infuriating actually, I'd love for you to be as simple as he said, maybe I'd be set up for more than the second place at one of these."

"You always stand a chance, if I didn't have the stories you'd win every time." He admitted, Valdo was always talented, a bit of a cock, but talented nonetheless.

"Do you truly think so little of yourself? I do believe that position is already taken by yours truly. If you hate you and I hate you there's no balance and I certainly can't like you."

"No such thing as can't," Jaskier parotted.

"Shut it," Valdosmiled, taking a seat next to Jaskier.

"Your hand! You idiot why didn't you say you'd hurt yourself!" Jaskier jumped off the bed and towards his packs as he saw Valdo's right hand. The knuckles were forming fresh bruises and the two rings he wore cut into the meat of his fingers, a result of defending him.

"Well would you look at that," Valdo raised his hand to get a better look, noticing the injury for the first time.

"Give me your hand," Jaskier returned from his pack with the medical supplies he used to use on Geralt and occasionally himself. He's had no use for them since his separation with the witcher but didn't want to be rid of them.

"Why did you do that?" He asked as he carefully slipped the rings off of Valdo's hand, wiping the blood from them as he went.

"Would you not have done the same? I thought we had something special." He pouted his lip out dramatically.

"You're insufferable." Jaskier shook his head fondly, carefully dabbing the traces of blood off Valdo's hand to prepare it for the salve he'd picked out.

"I figure after all this time it's my job, and mine alone to terrorize you. Can't have some no-name bard taking my place."

Jaskier smiled up at him briefly, sensing that Valdo was cleverly dancing around what he really wanted to say. The two could go on and on all day when they were both students with nothing but quick wordplay and childish insults. The way Valdo explained himself brought Jaskier straight back to Oxenfurt. He'd nearly forgotten how fondly he looked back at that time.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were worried about me, couldn't stand to see me be tortured so." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, matching the dramatics that Valdo was presenting.

"Oh yes, your suffering was so potent I could practically taste it."

"My hero," He winked, wrapping Valdo's knuckles gently in bandages. It wasn't strictly necessary, but if Valdo was going to be playing tomorrow, any help speeding up the healing would be more than useful.

"I thought that was the witcher's job," Valdo pitched in carefully, giving Jaskier an out if he didn't wish to talk about Geralt. Jaskier was thankful for the offer but felt he owed Valdo at least an explanation as to why he had to step in instead of his usual travel companion.

"Hasn't been for a while, as you can see he isn't here," Jaskier spoke softly, the wound still fresh and painful as he recalled his and Geralt's parting.

"Shall I give him the same treatment then? There appears to be a line of people trying to take my place as your premier torturer."

"I'd like to see you try." He smiled, feeling content in the company of another for the first time in months. He'd never expected the first to break the chain would be Valdo Marx of all people, but thinking about it now he couldn't really expect anyone else.

"You doubt my strength even after I defend your honour? I'm wounded, Julian."

"Why did you actually do it? And why are being nice to me?"

Valdo looked at him for a moment, contemplating whether he would answer truthfully or dramatically again, his face fell for a moment before settling on a neutral look. He'd chosen truthfully then.

"He was hurting you, I know when someone has struck a nerve with you Julian it's a clear sight. He was lying and I'd have left it alone but your idiocy made you believe that shit. I know we aren't exactly chummy, but I've never strived to hurt you."

"I know. I can't say I've never tried to hurt you if I'm being completely honest, but I can say I regretted every time I have. Thank you, Valdo, really."

"Don't mention it." He said softly, squeezing Jaskier's hand before taking it back and inspecting the bandage, wincing when he poked a finger at it.

"It won't heal if you play with it," Jaskier muttered, taking his seat once more on the bed beside Valdo.

"Going to be a bitch to play with," He explained, flexing his hand a few times before dropping it to the bed. Jaskier had played with various injuries before, a few on his hands. It made playing uncomfortable above anything, a bit less dexterous, but manageable in the end.

"I'm sure you'll find a way,"

"But of course, a bruise of all things will not be what brings down the great Valdo Marx. I may even beat you while grievously injured. Just imagine the stories Julian," He smirked, widening his hands in front of him as if looking into the future at said stories.

While it never really occurred to Jaskier in the heat of the moment, he noticed that when Valdo called him 'Julian' the name didn't come with the usual cringe or wave of unpleasant memories from his days before he was Jaskier.  
No one else could call him that so easily and with no blow to Jaskier. Maybe there was something in the way he said it.

"That is if we don't get thrown out after that arse tells the staff what happened to his poor face." Jaskier pointed out, not mentioning his previous realization.

He was sure the man would exaggerate the story of what happened, painting himself as the innocent victim in it all, having been viciously attacked by two bards for no reason but their own malicious. They'd have no reason not to believe him.

"Well, if we are disqualified at least it will be together,"

Valdo had said it jokingly, but Jaskier found he agreed whole-heartedly. If only Valdo was kicked out of the competition Jaskier would feel endlessly guilty, a win unwarranted even if he'd have won either way. And on the other hand, if he were kicked out and Valdo stayed he'd be alone again.

"Well, here's to hoping it's together then," Jaskier replied, raising an invisible toast.  
Valdo shook his head but raised his own hand to clink imaginary glasses with Jaskier.

"Ugh, we need something stronger than this," He said wistfully after pretending to drink his glass of air.

"I agree, I've got a little something packed away for a rainy day. I don't imagine they'll welcome us to warmly out there just yet so I see no harm in cracking it open now." Jaskier explained, standing and retrieving an expensive bottle of wine from his back. He'd bought it a few days after he made it off the godforsaken mountain, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Geralt as quickly as possible, but also wanting to drown his sorrows. Buying in bulk seemed to be the right compromise.

"You're a saint," Valdo sighed, taking the bottle from Jaskier's hand and popping the cork out.

"It'll have to be straight from the bottle today," Jaskier pointed out when Valdo hesitated after opening the drink.

"Even better,"

He tipped his head back and took a long drink from the bottle, Jaskier followed the movement of his throat as he swallowed, unconsciously licking his lips. (Because of the wine, obviously)

He let out a long sigh after he pulled the line away from his lips, wordlessly handing it over to Jaskier without opening his eyes. It seemed the alcohol was more needed than he'd first thought.

"I fear we'll finish off the bottle before midday at this rate," Jaskier warned, taking a swig of his own.

"Eh, I don't think anyone's truly keeping score. Nothing wrong with getting piss drunk before the sun's set. We'd done it enough at the academy."

"That we did,"

"You wrote one of your best songs at the time dead hungover, performed it the same day. Incredibly might I add? Your dick," Jaskier reminisced, he'd been so jealous of Valdo's abilities that day, completely out of it in hangover while Valdo pumped out a masterpiece with the same ailment.

"I'd hoped you'd be impressed, seems I'd only made you green with envy." Valdo joked, smiling at the memory.

"I'm sure your thoughts that day were far from whether or not I'd be impressed by your skill."

"Then you'd be wrong," He admitted, looking Jaskier in the eye with a look of sincerity.

"I was always trying to impress you Julian, all I'd ever succeeded in was making you hate me,"

"I never hated you, Marx," He spoke softly, in the back of his mind re-thinking nearly every moment the two shared in Oxenfurt. All the times he'd been pacing angrily in his room, cursing Valdo and his talent under his breath as the troubadour once again impressed everyone with his bardic skill, while Jaskier could only stand at the sidelines and question his abilities compared to the man.

"I know," Valdo answered. "You did try quite hard to make it seem so," He laughed, passing the wine back over the Jaskier.

"I had an image to uphold my dear. And, for what it's worth I was always impressed with you. Infuriatingly so,"

"Really? You had me fooled." He scoffed.

"Really. You think I tried so hard to outshine you simply out of spite?" He asked, taking down a few mouth fulls of wine before continuing, the alcohol loosening both their tongues and making one of their rare, real conversations much easier.

"No, I wanted to be as good as you," He admitted with a small smile, he'd grown so hung up with beating Valdo back then that he very rarely only focused on himself. That is until his schooling began to suffer for it and he had to put the squabble on hold for a while.

"Well you've certainly reached your goal, surpassed it I'd say. Half the continent knows your name now Jaskier, You've reached bardic fame."

"Thanks to the witcher, not me."

Valdo looked up at him incredulously, "I did not knock someone on his arse just for you to believe every word he said. You can't honestly believe that witcher is responsible for your career?"

Jaskier simply shrugged, fingers fiddling with the label on the wine bottle. Of course, he knew he was skilled, there was no denying that, but if it weren't for Geralt he wouldn't be 'Master Jaskier' he'd be an unknown bard performing in the same town for years, not enough coin to even travel somewhere else to sing.

"Who wrote your songs Jaskier?"

"I did, who do you take me for?" Jaskier answered, taken back by the question.

"And who performed them?" Valdo continued.

"I did,"

"Well, I for one didn't hear the witcher's name once, so it'd undeniable. You made your own fame Julian, whether you believe it or not, now pass the wine back over you hog."

Jaskier felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears warm with the words, handing the wine over silently and hoping Valdo didn't notice his face burning up.

"I think you're the first person to think that in years,"

"Well I am incredibly intelligent, I wouldn't put it past everyone else to be too dim-witted to see."

"I mean it," Jaskier said, "No one's taken my skill over my stories in a while. People don't think about the work that goes into writing or the practice it took to perfect my voice, style, instruments, and gods know what else. They just hear the stories and give all the credit to the protagonist, which was always the same person." He rolled his eyes, thinking back to all the times people had approached him after performances just to ask about Geralt, not a single person taking a moment to appreciate the songs themselves, just wanting to know more about the white wolf, 'did he really do this,' and ' I didn't know he could do that'.  
He was happy to entertain them at the time, but with the events of today, he could only be annoyed.

"Most of the time, people don't notice the bard unless he makes a mistake," Valdo said plainly, looking Jaskier in the eyes as if to drive the point home, a finishing blow to the doubt eating away at Jaskier.

He smiled brightly, the expression only growing when Valdo smiled back at him.

Time seemed to stop around them, only the two of them in the world as they looked into each other's eyes.

Jaskier knew what was growing between them, the tension that would snap and the act that would follow. They'd fallen together before, of course, most of the time it was aggressive, fueled with anger or pettiness. Sometimes, when one of the two of them had suffered a bad loss or a bad day in general, it was a bit softer, but it was never sweet, could only ever be called fucking.  
Which worked for them, but it's not what Jaskier needs right now, and he's sure it's not what Valdo wants either.

He lifted the bottle of wine in his hand and looked down at where it had emptied too, the liquid only filling the bottle less than half now. He could feel it buzzing inside of him but wasn't inebriated by any means, just enough to warm him.

"I don't want to make a mistake tonight," He said simply, watching the wine slosh around in the bottle as he shook it in front of his head. Not wanting to see Valdo's expression when he turned him down.

"Then let's not," Valdo said simply.

Jaskier couldn't help but be a little disappointed, he'd be lying if he said Valdo wasn't good to him when they laid together, and he could use some physical comfort right about now, but he knew it was for the best if they both agreed.

He nodded, turning to hand the wine back over. Before he could actually hand it over Valdo had lifted a hand to rest on Jaskier's cheek, holding his face in his hand.

"Valdo?" He breathed, trying his damndest not to lean into the touch.

Valdo didn't answer, simply shifted so he was fully facing Jaskier, bringing his other hand to push through Jaskier's hair and rest on the base of his skull. Jaskier gave up fighting his reaction, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into the warm touch, a shuttering breath escaping his lips as he gave in.

"But you said," His words had no heat in them, already putty in Valdo's hands, but wanting to talk some sense into the other man despite the urge to just shut up and let it happen. He didn't want either of them to wake up regretting what had happened.

"I said, let's not make a mistake. Let's do it right." Valdo answered, his thumb tracing the line of Jaskier's cheekbone, just under his eye.

"Will you let me do right by you?" He asked gently.

"Yes,"

Without further hesitation Valdo leaned forward, pressing his lips to the creases beside Jaskier's eye, brushing the spot with his hand after, the action making Jaskier open his eyes.

"Tell me you want this, I won't go any further if you can't look at me and say you want this."

Jaskier nearly melted in his hands, his throat feeling tight with emotion as he looked at the first person to truly care about him in years.

"I want this," He said, barely above a whisper, his voice rising in pitch on the last word as if he'd just realized he did.

"Me too,"

Valdo leaned in properly, both of their eyes closing as their lips met. It was no more than a press of lips at first, separating just enough for their lips to not touch, eyes still closed as they hovered close to each other, sharing air, the heat of their bodies playing off of each other.

They sat there for a moment, collecting the pieces of themselves that seemed to shatter when they met in the middle, something surreal between them that has been there since the beginning, remaining untapped while they fought needlessly against each other.

"Gods," Jaskier breathed, his patience running thin as the emotions threatened to drown him before they could move past the first kiss.

"Kiss me properly,"

"As you wish,"

He wasted no time in kissing Jaskier properly, slowly bringing the younger man down to the bed, hovering over him.

Jaskier went easily, laying underneath Valdo, all the while never breaking the deep kiss, each giving as good as they got. They knew what the other liked as they knew themselves, but this time was different than all the others.

When his lungs began to burn Jaskier placed his hands on Valdo's shoulders to pull away, gazing up at him through heavy breathes. He laughed softly, moving his hands from Valdo's shoulders to around his neck and into his blonde hair.

Valdo smiled back, drinking in the sight beneath him. Jaskier was always beautiful, but there was something about the man being willingly beneath him, laughing as he wrapped him up in his arms. His affection for the man felt like a glowing light in his chest, pulling him towards the younger man.

He kissed him once more on the lips, moving to the bolt of his jaw, down Jaskier's neck while the brunette pulled his closer, tilting his head to give Valdo more room.

Where he would usually bite or suck angry bruises into his skin, Valdo kissed softly, running his tongue over particularly sensitive areas, spurred on by Jaskier's breathy moans and barely-there gasps.  
He stopped just below Jaskier's collar bone, where his shirt cut off the rest of his skin, slipping his hand underneath the fabric and onto the soft skin waiting underneath.

Clothes came off gently, but efficiently until they were in not but their smalls, they take each other apart bit by bit, spending the night showing each other how deeply they cared well into the afternoon. 

When they were both wiped down, satisfied and at ease, they curled up chest to chest, falling asleep peacefully, as if the only thing in the world that existed was here and now.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a short morning after continuation of this that I will post whenever that's finished so, let me know what you think and if I should bother with the second part.  
> Also, come say hi on Tumblr http://jaskiersbrokenlute.tumblr.com/


End file.
